


Under Your Spell

by Cunninglinguist



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Bodily Fluids, Brutal Murder, Disturbing Themes, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Description, I have a lot of feelings, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love, Love Confessions, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Murder, OTP Feels, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Praise Kink, Self-Harm, Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Voyeurism, Weird Fluff, this is a weird thing that i've written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 14:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12728646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cunninglinguist/pseuds/Cunninglinguist
Summary: I know now--You can only hurt me cause I let you get to know me so well--I know now--I love you cause only you can turn my heaven to hell





	Under Your Spell

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to take place at some point between Amanda's first game and her second; she's been working with him for a minute, but she's not yet experienced Ye Olde Needle Pit of Saw II. 
> 
> Obligatory Author's Note: I don't own Saw or any of these absurd characters, and I am not making any money from this work.
> 
> Another apparently obligatory note: If this is not your jam, it costs zero dollars to keep scrolling and not read/comment. Please read the tags.

Amanda Young exhaled harshly as she closed the heavy door behind her, heartbeat pounding in her ears. She closed her eyes and leaned against the solid surface, listening to her labored breathing and the tinny sound of rain beating against the walls of the abandoned mannequin factory. Despite her soaked, bedraggled state, she was a goddess ablaze in the high that came from setting everything in place for her newest game--their newest game. She let out another deep sigh that turned into a burst of incredulous laughter as adrenaline thrummed through her veins, heating her blood to a near boiling point. She was burning up, so hot, too hot to touch...

Her eyes opened at the distant whirring of a drill. Her heart skipped a beat. He was here. 

_Of fucking course he’s here, where else would he be?_

Amanda found herself in a rare state--utterly indifferent to her appearance, despite the fact that her hair was a fucking mess, drenched in rain and sweat, and her eyeliner was undoubtedly running down her cheeks. None of that mattered, not now that she oozed pure confidence, devoid of the desire to reach into the secret pocket of her purse and produce that all-too trusty razor blade, to drag it slowly across the thin skin of her inner thighs or wrists until her flesh was slick with enough blood to drown out all the hate and noise in her brain. 

That was just the effect that John had on her--when she did this, when _they_ did this, she was worth something--worth everything. She had purpose. She wasn’t just alive, she was _living_. 

Aching with the need to tell him of all that she had accomplished, she smoothed her hair back and started the long walk through dimly lit concrete hallways and up treacherous staircases to their workshop. Heat suffused her gut at the anticipation of his praise. She bit her lip, sighing at the thought of what might come after. 

The factory was vast, a real bitch to navigate if you didn’t know it. Amanda knew this place inside and out, better than she’d known any place she’d ever called home. Had she ever really called any place _home_ before this? She stopped walking, hand curled around the cool metal of the banister. This was certainly the first place she’d called _home_ and actually meant it. 

Fuck her house growing up, fuck her apartment. Fuck all of her apartments. Fuck her ex-boyfriends’ apartments--all of ‘em. Fuck prison, fuck the halfway house, and then the other halfway house, and that other ex-boyfriend’s place, can’t forget him...and fuck her ex-girlfriend’s place, too. Fuck everyone and everywhere she’d ever been, nothing more than scraps of the tattered, haphazardly sewn quilt of Amanda’s fractured past-life, a half-life, the empty shell of her existence before John.

The one who made her _see_. The one who cared. The one who had not only seen the demoness warrior beast within her, gnashing its teeth, but released it--and fed it, over and over, nurturing it and cherishing it as it grew into a behemoth.

Amanda’s heart melted in her chest at the mere thought of him, but when she actually saw him? Every time was like the first time, that time he’d come to her in her apartment, right after her test. It was just him in the flesh, unmasked, sans pretense, and her--just the two of them. Never had she sought validation from someone in the way that she’d sought his; oh, she coveted it, chasing it like a junkie chasing the next fix. The pleasure that came from his validation was infinitely more satisfying than the contents of a thousand needles. 

Every time she saw him, she could barely breathe. 

This time was no different. She hovered in the doorway to the workshop for a minute, listening to the drone of machinery and raking her eyes over the space. Mannequins and their parts were strewn about the vast, dingy area, bathed in the sickly fluorescent glow of industrial lighting. Every surface was littered with tools and masks, materials, contraptions and gears and pieces that fit together in ways so intricate and specific that only he knew…

And there, right in the middle of it, shrouded in that black hooded robe, was John. Warmth bloomed in Amanda’s chest at the familiar sight. He was, of course, hunched over a well-lit work table, deep in concentration.

Amanda inhaled, gathering her composure before walking over to him deliberately, head held high, a queen approaching her king. 

Just as she was about to lay her hands upon his shoulders, the whirring ceased abruptly. John’s posture straightened significantly, turning just enough to catch the sight of her in his periphery. 

“Amanda,” he said.

“I did it,” she replied, excitement audible in her shaking voice. “Everything is in place.”

John turned fully to face her. He pulled his hood back slowly, revealing a head of wild, bright white hair. He fixed her face with icy eyes, scrutinizing her for any little facial tic or micro-expression that might betray her meaning. “And the test subject?”

Amanda nodded eagerly. “He’ll be awake soon.”

The smallest hint of a smile played across John’s lips, deepening the myriad of lines on his face even more. Amanda’s stomach flipped, her heart beating wildly in her chest. He was pleased with her. He already loved what she had done.

 _Maybe he even loved her_. A dangerous thought, a weak thought, a wrong thought-- _she could never be Jill_ \--but she would continue to indulge in this fantasy over and over, so long as she gave herself over to him entirely. 

“Well, then,” he said, the barest hint of amusement in his raspy voice. “Let's have a look.”

He rose from his chair with a groan, and walked over to the long table against the wall, the one where he kept the computers. He bent to press the “on” button of the first monitor. The screen flickered to life, displaying grainy footage of the chained man, a drug dealer--one of Amanda’s former suppliers-- still deep in a drug-induced sleep. John dragged his seat over, metal legs scraping against the concrete floor, to get a closer look. 

Amanda’s pulse raced as she watched him study the feed. His expression barely changed, and to someone who did not know him, his expression was inscrutable, but to her...he was delighted, he was proud.

He leaned back in his chair, nodding in approval. “This is good, very good.” He opened his arms and stared at her expectantly.

Amanda nearly squealed with joy as she bent at the waist to embrace her mentor, pulling his lean body to hers, relishing his warmth, his scent. He patted her back feebly before pulling away, exhaling audibly. 

“Look at you,” he murmured, sitting back in his chair. Amanda blushed under his scrutiny, her whole being brimming with pride and desire. “I never could have imagined this in my wildest dreams, you being here, understanding me…” He coughed suddenly, body lurching forward. 

Momentarily snapping out of her haze, Amanda rushed to his work table to grab his glass of water. Long, bony fingers curled around the back of her hand as he guided the straw to his lips. She rubbed soothing circles on his back as he drank. 

“You gotta remember to drink when you’re working,” she said softly when he relinquished the cup from his grasp. She set it on the table next to the flickering monitor and crossed her arms over her chest. “You okay?”

“Oh, yes. I know you’re right,” he replied, wiping his lips briefly against the back of his hand. “Thank you, Amanda.”

Like nothing had happened, he straightened his spine and fixed her once more with icy focus, more powerful now than before. 

“Come here,” he ordered, pointing to the floor at his feet. In an instant, Amanda dropped to her knees and crawled to him, maintaining eye contact all the while. When she reached his feet, she positioned herself at his right-hand side. 

She sat back on her knees, looking up at him imploringly. He nodded sternly, and she buried her face in his lap, pressing her cheeks against his thighs, hugging at his knees, trying to press as much of her body to his as she could. He ran a hand through her hair, stroking her gently. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Such a good girl.”

Amanda let out the ghost of a moan into the fabric of his robe--yes. Her underwear dampened significantly as John repeated his praise and continued to stroke her hair, his fingertips grazing the sensitive flesh of her neck every so often. 

After a time, the movement stopped and John was tipping her chin up, forcing their eyes to meet once again. “Show me your body,” he said, lightly caressing her jaw. His voice was soft, like it was a suggestion, but Amanda knew it was anything but.

Not that she would ever, ever, _ever_ deny herself this, her darkest, most delicious pleasure. 

“Yes, John,” she breathed, biting her lip as she rose to her feet. She took her time, despite her desperation, removing each piece of clothing deliberately, like she was back at the club, charming dollars from the wallets of lust-addled men. She knew John was watching her intently from his seat, his breathing just a little shallower, just a little quicker--especially when she turned her back to him, throwing a smoldering look over her shoulder before she hinged forward at the waist, bending over slowly to tug her pants down, taking her simple black thong with them. 

A loud scraping noise startled both Amanda and John. They both turned to look at the computer monitor--their subject was finally awake, heavy chains rattling against concrete as he struggled in his binding. 

John looked up at Amanda, eyes hooded, eyebrows raised...and grinned. A full-blown, wicked grin that made Amanda’s vision swim and her cunt drip. 

He pushed his chair back towards his work table and carefully moved his project out of the way to clear space. He rapped his knuckles against the bare surface. “Right here.”

Amanda obeyed ardently, quickly hopping up on the low table. She braced herself on her hands, gently pushing spare bolts and a deadly sharp pair of open wire cutters to the side. She exhaled shakily--the monitor was in her direct line of sight. 

John’s hands were warm on the tops of her bare thighs. Amanda bit her lip and spread her legs as wide as they would go, balancing one foot on the arm of John’s chair and letting her left leg dangle. 

John glanced back at the computer screen. “Watch your work,” he said, briefly stroking the flesh of her inner thighs before lowering his head.

Amanda tried, she really tried, to focus on the footage on the monitor before her, but between the divine sight of her messiah’s face buried between her thighs and the exquisite sensation of his tongue licking her open, any resolve she might have had shattered in an instant. She let out a loud, uninhibited moan as she surrendered to his mouth like she surrendered to the power of his mind, the beauty of his design: entirely. 

She vaguely registered the sound of the Jigsaw message playing for their twisted live feed-- _let the game begin_ \--- which only heightened her arousal. She was truly proud of this game; John had given her full reign over her victim and the implements of his punishment, but that thought could not have been further from her mind at the moment. She braced herself on one hand and twisted her free fingers in John’s fine hair, rocking her hips against his face. He was an absolute beast tonight, lavishing her with his lips and tongue, devouring her voraciously, grunting and stroking himself as he worked. 

“John!” she gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head at the sensation of his fingers pressing against her soft, wet opening as he sucked on her clit, hard. Her legs shook as she stared up at the barren ceiling, moans increasing in volume to harmonize in a dreadful cacophony with the shrieks of panic and despair emanating from the live feed.

With one twist of those fingers, an apt flick of his wicked tongue, Amanda was seeing stars--she slammed her hands down on the table, crying out his name as the familiar heat of climax coiled in her low gut. She felt her spirit ascend, hovering above and staring down at her sweat-slick body, glistening under the industrial lights, a woman driven to madness as she writhed against her eager lover’s face, head thrown back in ecstasy, mouth frozen in what looked like a scream as she desperately approached her peak...

Suddenly, John stopped, withdrawing his mouth and his fingers, bringing Amanda’s high to a crashing halt. She cried out in dismay, chest heaving as she shot him an indignant look. 

“Do you want to come?” he asked hoarsely, thin lips glistening with her arousal as he slid two fingers against her clit so slowly, too slowly. The test subject let out an anguished howl so loud the speaker crackled; Amanda shuddered, every nerve in her body raw and exposed.

“Yes, fuck!” she gasped, sweat beading on her forehead.

“Do you want to come with me inside of you?” he continued, exhaling harshly. Amanda’s vision swam--this was the thing she wanted most, yet in all the times they had been together, John had never offered to give himself to her like this. Up until this moment, she had resigned herself to the idea of never having this with him, forcing herself to be content with that. No matter how much she’d begged him for it, how much she’d openly craved it, he had always drawn a line. 

Now, he wanted to cross that line. Amanda held his gaze as she reached between her splayed thighs to spread her pussy wide. “Please, John,” she whispered. “Hurry.” 

John’s eyes darkened; though it was hardly the first time Amanda had seen him aroused, or in the throes of passion, she felt just as nervous as the first time they had added this physical dimension to their relationship, if not more. He maneuvered his chair towards the monitor and beckoned her over.

Amanda stood before him on shaky legs, face burning as he studied her. 

“Turn around,” he commanded, pulling the hem of his robe up around his waist. She kept her misgivings about not seeing his face to herself and complied, turning to face away from him. 

“Good,” he murmured, slipping a hand between her legs and pushing them apart so that she was reverse-straddling his lap. “Yes...like that. Now, sit.” 

_Fuck_. Fluid trickled down Amanda’s quivering inner thigh as John guided her by the hips, gently pulling her down until the tip of his cock teased at her opening.

Amanda bit her lip, her heart pounding in her chest. Desperate to look at him, see him, she stabilized herself on an armrest and turned her head. He craned his neck forward, knowing that she needed this--like he always knew everything about her. As the test subject on the monitor grew increasingly more panicked as his time decreased, screaming and rattling his chains, feeding himself into Amanda’s meat grinder, John slid a hand up Amanda’s body to her jaw, angling her face towards his. He captured her lips in a kiss just as she sank all the way down onto his length. 

Amanda gasped into his mouth. Her synapses were exploding, teetering on the edge of sanity as sweat trickled down her back and into the fabric of his robes. His grip remained firm on her jaw as she rolled her hips, pressing her forehead to his and whimpering. 

“So good, so tight,” he breathed against her lips. Her eyelids fluttered and her heart ached as he grazed his fingertips over raised scar tissue on her inner thighs and wrists, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Amanda was suddenly completely overwhelmed by the unbelievable sensation of finally having John inside of her, so deep that she could feel him in the very core of her body, scorching her from the inside out. Tears sprang to her eyes as she writhed on his lap, her movements careful, torturously slow so as to savor every last motion and simultaneously avoid injury. It was gorgeously intimate, their breaths mingling, her bare back against his clothed chest, her legs spread as wide as they would go to accommodate the position. 

“John,” she groaned, gripping the armrest so tight her knuckles turned white. 

“Look,” he murmured, snaking his free hand around her waist and pointing straight ahead. She turned her head forward, vision hazy as she gazed upon the footage on the screen. Their subject had made it quite far, feeding his hand through the meat grinder to gain his freedom from death in the most grisly way. He screamed and howled in agony; dark blood splattered across his shirt and face in seemingly endless quantities. it was impressive, and Amanda would reflect upon it further..later.

“It’s beautiful,” he sighed, lightly kissing the base of her neck. “One of your best.” The hand on her stomach slithered ever lower, spreading her lips and rubbing at her far too swollen and sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, John!” she cried, a convulsion wracking her body as fresh tears streamed down her face. She gushed, her fluids slicking John’s cock as she continued grinding down onto his lap, the sensations so intense they blurred the line between pleasure and pain. 

“Fuck, oh fuck,” she whined, delirious as her lost orgasm returned with a vengeance, that maddening heat pooling at the base of her spine, fiery and ten times as intense as the first. 

The timer for the game ran out; both Amanda and John turned to watch as the subject realized his failure and the instrument of his demise--a collar of syringes, all filled with acid, Amanda’s prototype--closed around his neck, injecting him with the excruciating substance. 

“You wanted that, didn’t you,” growled John hotly against her ear as the subject shrieked in fear and pain. “Angel of death.”

 

His lips found the spot on her neck that made her toes curl; he sank his teeth into the sensitive flesh there and resumed his thrusts. Amanda let out a wail, her thighs shaking uncontrollably, body aching with the effort of sustaining their position. She reached up, one hand finding the back of his head, the other bracing herself on the armrest meet his thrusts, all sense fleeing her as she bucked her hips tempestuously, a willing slave to the sinful heat building between her legs, ascending higher and higher, until--

Her eyes snapped open, tears obscuring her vision. “ _John_ ,” she gasped as her body seized up, back twisting violently, cunt constricting, heels sliding against the cold floor as her orgasm rendered her helpless, wracking her body in pulverizing waves... 

John held her through it, whispering lewd encouragement in her ear as he squeezed her tits and rolled his hips, thrusting into her dripping cunt until he sank his teeth into her shoulder and spent himself deep inside of her. More tears rolled down Amanda’s cheeks at the unparalleled intimacy of feeling him shudder against her, feeling the hot burst of his release. 

For several moments, the only sound that passed between them was that of labored breaths and they slowly came down. Amanda was the first to move, carefully leaning forward and easing herself off John’s lap with a groan. She had to steady herself against the table as her knees knocked inward, legs quivering like jelly. She took a sip from John’s abandoned cup before handing him his water, which he took gratefully. He grabbed her hand, his thumb circling her wrist gently before he tugged her towards him. She crouched between his open thighs, offering him a besotted smile. He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, brushing her damp hair behind her ear and slipping his tongue between her lips. 

Amanda melted against him, dizzy when they finally parted. 

“You are perfect,” he murmured, setting her soul on fire. “You did so well today. In fact, you did so well that I want you to do something else for me. WIll you do it, Amanda?”

High from his heady attentions, Amanda murmured, “Anything. I’ll do anything for you, John.”

He cupped her face in his hands before staring coldly into her eyes. “I need you to face death, one more time.”

Amanda closed her eyes, ready and willing to do exactly what he had asked her to, no questions asked. She covered his hands with hers and met his gaze. “I love you, John.” 

He offered her a small smile in return and kissed her forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I've shipped them for a super long time, and a recent binge re-watch of the entire Saw series (like twice) reminded me of how much I love and ship these two terrible, beautiful people. I wrote and posted this as a birthday present to myself, so woo hoo!
> 
> If you enjoyed that, and you enjoy things like metal, horror, monsters, shows like the Walking Dead and Hannibal, and a myriad of other spooky things, feel free to find me on the ol' [Tumbles](http://hannibalssweaters.tumblr.com/).


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